


Garak and the Riding Hound

by zaan



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 16:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17984432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaan/pseuds/zaan
Summary: Everybody likes Julian Bashir.  Even riding hounds ... right?





	1. Warg

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eilu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eilu/gifts).



> I love the idea of Garak and a pet; this is for Eilu's Gul Whiskers

Garak strode down the hall toward Cargo Bay 3, wondering why Odo had summoned him. 

As he approached he heard shouts of “Back!  Help!”  Quickly, he put a hand on a hidden phaser and opened the door.  Quark and Odo were standing on top of a crate, gesticulating at something on the far side of it. 

Quark spun around as the door closed. “Garak!  Thank the Nagus you’re here!  You’ve got to help us!”

As if on cue, a large creature shot out from behind the crates and Garak found himself faced with an enraged riding hound hurtling toward him baying its bone curdling cry. 

“T’resk!” he shouted.  At the familiar command and the familiar sound of a Cardassian voice, the hound halted uncertainly. 

“Aletma Nahas,” Garak said firmly, making a sweeping gesture down with his hand.

The hound sunk into a submissive posture, grinning apologetically.  Garak made a brisk motion with his hand and the hound bounded to and settled submissively at his side, gazing up at him adoringly, its tail making soft thumps on the ground.

While Quark scrambled gracelessly from the box, Odo flowed down smoothly in his liquid state before reforming unhurriedly on the ground.  Quark came angrily towards Garak.  The hound growled in warning.  Quark squeaked and shot behind Odo, who was scowling as ferociously as the hound.

“Sho’nath!” Garak hissed at the hound, who stopped its growling, giving an apologetic lick to Garak’s hand.

Odo inclined his head slightly.  “It seems thanks are in order,” he said grudgingly.

“Happy to oblige,” said Garak.  “Though I admit I’m a little surprised to see a riding hound on the station.”

“The rotten creature snuck onto the ship that was bringing me cargo from Cardassia,” Quark complained.

“So he says,” remarked Odo.

“Odo, do we have to go over this again?  What reason would I have to smuggle in a riding hound?  Who’d want one?  And just look at the damage it did to my goods!  Is that good business?  A riding hound!”

"A miniature riding hound, actually," said Garak.

Quark gaped.  "You're kidding me - **this** is a small one?"

Odo huffed.  “Whether it's a a regular or miniature riding hound is beside the point - we still have to deal with it somehow.”

“You won’t be able to ship it back to Cardassia,” Garak said.  “Even if you knew where it came from, although it’s likely a stray.  Quarantine issues.  They’d kill it.”

“And that’s not a solution to the problem?”

“Odo, I’m appalled.” Garak said, though he knew Odo wasn't serious, merely frustrated.

Odo sighed.  “And just what else do you expect me to do, Garak?  Keep it in a cell?”

“Not at all,” Garak smiled.  “He can live with me and Julian.  Can’t you, Warg?” he added, smiling down at the hound.

The hound, a.k.a. Warg, whined and trembled, barely able to contain its ecstasy.


	2. A new home

Julian had had a trying day in the office, full of crying biting children and whiny snarky staff and interminable pointless paperwork.  He was looking forward to the calm and tranquility of his and Elim’s quarters, which were decorated in a soothing minimalist Cardassian style that he had grown to love.  He pictured the evening before them – a sedate dinner with a civilized discussion, a quiet glass of wine and reading together, maybe a bath and something more.  He smiled, feeling the stress of the day slip off him.

Then he walked into their quarters.

A huge monstrous animal was sniffing around the living room.  Julian shouted loudly and picked up a chair defensively, waving it wildly at the animal who, startled in its happy ramblings, backed away in panic, crashing into and overturning the coffee table.  Garak rushed in from the bedroom and gawked at him.

“Julian?  What do you think you’re doing?”

"Oh, uh ..."  Julian lowered the chair sheepishly but kept it protectively in front of him.  “I thought ..” he nodded toward the … thing.

“You thought what?  That our riding hound was going to attack you?”

“Riding hound?  Is that what it is?”

“Yes, dear.  Have you never seen one before?”

Julian set the chair down and wiped a shaky hand through his hair, keeping a wary eye on the hound who was keeping a wary eye back.  “No, actually.  I’ve never been entirely comfortable around animals and - wait - what did you mean … OUR riding hound?”

“Well, you see, dear ..”

“No.  Absolutely not.”

“But –“

“No.  Pets are messy and smelly and disruptive – why would you want one?”

Garak got quiet.  Finally, he said in a small voice.  “It’s just … I had one when I was small.  I loved it, it was the only friend I had, really, and so Tain … got rid of it.”

“Oh.  Oh Elim, I’m sorry.”  Julian, the compassionate soul, stepped forward to put his arms around Garak.  Garak felt slightly bad lying to Julian – that riding hound had been a vicious beast that hated him and Tain had never gotten rid of it – but Warg needed a home, he wanted Warg, and well, needs must.

“That’s quite all right, my dear,” he said, throwing in a faintly audible sniff for good measure.  He winked at Warg over Julian’s shoulder.  Warg barked then sat down to sniff his bottom.


	3. Longing for affection

“Julian,” Garak said, for the third time.  “You really must learn to be patient.”

Julian stalked toward Warg who, having taken an instant fright to Julian since the incident with the chair, whimpered and backed away frantically and was now hiding behind Garak’s legs. 

Julian stood up in exasperation.  “It’s been three weeks, Garak!  And he still hides under a chair – a chair he can barely fit under, mind – and whimpers every time he sees me.”

“Three weeks with you busy on shifts and then attacking him every time you see him.  You do move rather abruptly and get rather worked up over things like work and literature, you know.”

“I’m not attacking him – I’m trying to pet him.”

“Oh.  Is that what you were doing?  You really weren’t exaggerating about your lack of experience with animals, were you?”

“We didn’t even have a goldfish.”  He sighed.  “All right, tell me what I should be doing.”

“Well, for one thing, don’t move so quickly – you spook him.  Stop shouting and gesticulating all the time.  And don’t bring your hand down from above him, that’s threatening.  You need to sit quietly and wait for him to come to you.”

Garak arranged him on the couch, sitting with his hand flat and palm up.  Then he went into the kitchen to get a snack.  A few minutes later Julian called out.

“It’s not working.”

Garak looked into the living room.  Warg was sniffing his toy, completely ignoring Julian.  “You call that patient?  It’s been two minutes, Julian.  It might take days or weeks.  You should be happy he’s not under the chair again.”

“Why doesn’t he like me?” Julian whined.

“Julian,” said Garak.  “Riding hounds don’t generally warm up to people right away.  Doesn’t he still bark at Quark whenever he hears his voice?”

“I guess,” said Julian.  Knowing he was more well liked than Quark was something, at least.

The door chimed.  “Are you expecting someone?”  Garak asked.

“The Chief was going to drop off part of my costume he borrowed.  Enter,” he called.

As the Chief walked in Julian thought too late to warn him about Warg, who launched himself at the Chief and …

Licked his face?

“Hey there, boy,” said Miles, the riding hound twisting itself round in circles of ecstasy and then pressing up adoringly against Miles as he scratched it behind the ears.

“What the hell!?” said Julian, leaping to his feet and waving his hands.

Warg whimpered and ran to Garak.


	4. A new start

A week later, with Garak away on business, Julian began his campaign of wheedling Warg into liking him.  So far it had been an exercise in futility.  Warg managed to lose his fear of Julian without gaining an ounce of affection or respect for him.  Now, he just ignored him. 

If Julian had been a different person, he would have given up.  However, he had a pathological dislike of being disliked.  The thought that anyone, even a smelly stupid Cardassian riding hound, didn’t like him, galled him.

Julian yawned, having just started a week of very early morning shift.  Warg looked up hopefully when the bedroom door opened, then dropped his head with a disgusted snort as he recognized Julian.

“Good morning to you too,” said Julian.  He trudged to the replicator and got a bowl of hound chow for Warg.  Normally he had tea in the mornings, but he felt the need for more fortification and ordered himself a doughnut and double strength raktajino. 

Warg’s eyes followed him from a safe distance as he went to the table.  Julian hesitated, then ripped off some doughtnut, dunked it in the coffee, and put it on a little dish.  He held the dish out but Warg only watched him.  “Fine,” Julian sighed.  He placed the plate on the floor and retreated.  As he settled in his chair he heard Warg thumping over and snuffling it.

Julian ate his doughtnut slowly, starting to think about his work for the day.  Suddenly, something wet pressed against him.  He looked down to see Warg with his snout pressed firmly into his hand, looking up at him hopefully.

“Liked that, did you?” Julian chuckled.  He broke off another piece, dunked it, and held it out.  Warg took it delicately from his fingers, slurping it down with a delighted sigh.

After that, it became a morning ritual.  Then an after work and before bed ritual and before long they were the best of friends.


	5. Fallout

The office door slammed open.  Julian, sitting at his desk, startled, his rajktajino spilling.  He looked up to find an enraged Cardassian standing over him.

“Elim!” he said nervously. “You’re back!”

“Julian Subatoi Bashir,” Garak said in an icy and inimical voice, one that Julian rarely heard but had come to fear, “You have ruined my riding hound.”

Julian flinched guiltily. Warg, who was with Garak, was whipping around him in a sugar / coffee induced frenzy.

“I just –“

“Don’t even try to justify yourself.” Julian was smart enough to shut up. “I've been gone, what, three weeks?  And in that time you've managed to turn our well-behaved riding hound into an agitated, overwrought, rabid raktajino addict! He’s destroyed half my shop, chewed on all the furniture in our quarters and ate my favourite tunic!"

"On the plus side," Julian suggested hopefully, "We're friends now."

Garak cast him a withering look.  "I expect, Doctor, to have my riding hound de-caffeinated and back to his usual self by the end of the week.  Do I make myself clear?”

Julian nodded weakly.  Garak gave him one last glare, thrust the leash into his hands, and stalked out of the office.

Warg clambered lovingly and clumsily onto his lap, dipping his snout into Julian’s coffee cup, tail wreaking havoc on his counter.

Julian smiled in contentment; it was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration for this work came from a scene in one of Patrick O'Brien's Aubrey & Maturin novels, in which Stephen Maturin ( a naturalist) brings aboard a sloth that doesn't like Captain Jack Aubrey, much to his chagrin, until he feeds it grog ... this novel has one of the best and most original lines ever written: "Sir, you have debauched my sloth!"


End file.
